


On You

by BlueTwo



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Lorenz in a Playboy Bunny Suit, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Strap-Ons, Trans Claude von Riegan, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21695698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueTwo/pseuds/BlueTwo
Summary: Lorenz has made some questionable decisions, but fortunately, Claude is too distracted to criticize him.
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 151





	On You

**Author's Note:**

> [bo](https://twitter.com/aydiosmiopls) said [bunnysuit](https://twitter.com/aydiosmiopls/status/1202418790677565445?s=20) [lorenz](https://twitter.com/aydiosmiopls/status/1202402003500056576?s=20) [rights](https://twitter.com/aydiosmiopls/status/1202689964837916675?s=20), and i said absolutely.
> 
> content warnings for sexual content, minor alcohol consumption, sex toys, ass-to-mouth, and general emotional constipation. thank you [@zeekubeast](https://twitter.com/zeekubeast) for proofreading and making sure my portrayal of trans claude is respectful.
> 
> to avoid any discomfort, potentially triggering words used to describe claude sexually in this fic are as follows, in various contexts: clit, dick, cock, folds. if any of these are uncomfortable for you, please be aware of their inclusion, and take care of yourself first and foremost! <3

Drink in one hand and cell phone in the other, Claude picks his way through the swarming halls and keeps an eye out for any familiar face. Even for a mansion, it struggles to hold all of the people packed into it; the flow of guests jostles him this way and that as he holds his whiskey sour above his head to keep it from spilling. 

The ebb and flow whisks him along until he ducks through an open doorframe where the lights are dimmer and the music more of a distant throb than a buzz that shakes the blood in his veins. A pulsing strobe illuminates its dark corners in a deep purple. It’s much easier to move around in here, most of the occupants in curtained alcoves or plush, candlelit booths skirting tables set with wine. There’s a bar, of course, as well; there’s a bar in every room, fully stocked and manned by a scantily-clad beauty topped off with the cheeky bunny ears that are the staff signature.

One such beauty seems to be just finishing his shift. He has his back to him, the revealing cut of his bodysuit framing the graceful curve of his ass, cute fluffy tail perched right below the small of his back. His entire hip, almost as high as his waist, is bare on either side. It makes his long legs stretch like taffy, pleasing and pliant under the wrapper of sheer, glossy nylons. Claude has always had a sweet tooth— and a thing for legs.

The taper of his pale thighs choke under the tightness of the nylons, the hem digging into the skin hard enough to leave a mark. Claude wonders how easily they would rip in his hands. He drains his glass in a single, long swallow— a vain attempt to quench his suddenly dry mouth.

Of course, a man that tempting is already talking to someone. With a start, Claude realizes he recognizes that someone: Sylvain Gautier, richest man in northeast Faerghus, the kind of playboy this mansion exists to cater to.

“Come on,” Sylvain cajoles as Claude comes up behind the bunny, intent on poaching him for himself. He sets his empty glass down on the bar as the rose scent of his light hair washes over him temptingly, the ghost of a memory he is desperate to chase. Oh, yeah. He’s not letting Sylvain get his hands on this one. “A little something for insta. Not even a post— just for my story!” 

“Absolutely not,” the bunny says, and Claude shivers at the sharp disapproval in it. Carefully, he pockets his own phone. “This is not a joke for you to make at my expense. I am _working_.”

“And you look so good doing it, sweetheart,” Sylvain laughs, edging closer and reaching out a hand to brush intimately at a lock of hair resting on his collarbone.

The bunny slaps him away with a huff and spins around to, presumably, storm off— only to come right up against Claude’s chest. 

“Lorenz,” he exhales, a curse and a prayer and a benediction. 

Claude gapes at him, trying to look nowhere and everywhere all at once. He can’t help how his eyes are drawn to the alluring dip of his bodice, the flat planes of his chest exposed only to the collarbone but all the more tantalizing for it. He’s a starving man sat in front of a feast— having not seen Lorenz since he vanished from their social sphere and social media alike, his father refusing to even acknowledge the existence of his son whenever Claude ventures to bring him up at work and political events. He knows that Lorenz’s father is conservative—hard to miss, given his not-so-subtle hatred of Claude—but he hadn’t realized just what lengths Lorenz could be driven to, to finally seek freedom. Didn’t he know that Claude would have supported him however he needed, without question? 

Lorenz must misread the surprise on his face because his own expression hardens, lip curled and practically snarling. “If you’ve come to mock me as well, you’re out of luck. My shift is over and I am _leaving_.” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Claude soothes, hands out in surrender. “There’s nothing to mock.” His heated gaze lingers on his slim thighs, his bare hips. When Lorenz doesn’t snap, he grows bolder, ventures closer.

“The only mockery here is that Sylvain thought a size queen like you could be satisfied with what he’s packing.” Claude curls a hand around the dip of his waist, thumb teasing against the naked skin below as he brushes his lips against the shell of Lorenz’s exposed ear. “I still remember how much you liked my big strap, baby.”

Lorenz’s face blooms red like a rose, and Claude brings the tips of his fingers to feather against the soft underside of his chin and tilt his head, eyes tracing the rich radiance as if he could pluck it and keep it for himself. As if on instinct, Lorenz bends in submission with his touch, offering his neck. Claude’s mouth waters with the desire to mark it. His briefs are slick from just the thought.

“Where’d you go?” he asks, leaning in to chafe the fragile expanse with the coarse abrasion of his beard. He presses a wet kiss below his ear. “Missed you.”

Lorenz whimpers, and Claude’s hand at his hip tightens. He’s not letting this man go again; not if he’ll have him. 

“There’s a room,” Lorenz says, and Claude stills. “Upstairs. With… things.”

“Things?”

Lorenz clears his throat, and Claude hides his smile in the fragrant fall of his hair. “Things we could… use.” 

With a frankly superhuman restraint, Claude slides his hands from his body to twine their fingers like vines. “Lead the way.”

When Lorenz puts some space between them to properly pull Claude along, there’s a near imperceptible stutter in his steps. Compared to his usual poise, it’s unsteady, urgent— so desperate to have Claude that he can’t keep his feet under himself, too eager to toss them over Claude’s shoulders. 

Claude watches him hungrily, mind flashing to memories of Lorenz’s legs, marked with love bites and beard burn, thighs locked around his neck as he loosens his hole with his tongue. 

Lorenz keeps his head down as he leads them upstairs, almost as if he’s embarrassed, as if the people they pass know exactly why they’re leaving the dancing and drinking behind. And, if Claude is being honest with himself, they do. But still, the way Lorenz’s bunny ears and fluffy tail bob with every step up the stairs is a punch to the gut with how cute it is, a pendulum of a wrecking ball knocking what little restraint he has into a pile of rubble at Lorenz’s dainty, expensive heels. 

When Lorenz knocks tentatively on the door he’s led them to, Claude thinks that if it’s occupied, he’ll haul whoever is in there out by the scruffs of their necks if it means getting his hands on Lorenz’s tight, beautiful body again. Fortunately, however, no one answers, and Lorenz tugs him inside with a flick to the light switch by the door. 

Before them is a leather couch, a fireplace, and across from those, a gorgeous bed: red and satin with gold trimmings, ostentatious and ridiculous and probably very comfortable. Claude breezes past all of it to zero in on dresser beside the bed where he knows places like this keep the tools of their trade hidden. 

Lorenz waits in the middle of the room, arms crossed and fidgeting the toe of his shoe against the plush synthetic fur rug beneath it. When Claude turns around, he has what he needs in one hand, the other free so he can reach for Lorenz and tilt his chin down for a kiss. Lorenz falls into it, open-mouthed and intense, any reserve driven out by desire. His delicate hands find purchase on Claude’s shoulders, and Claude shudders at how tightly they grip him— only for Lorenz to _shove_ , forcing him to stumble backwards and land on the leather couch.

He blinks up at Lorenz, surprised by his sudden boldness, but grins when he sees the split decision that wracks his face before arousal takes over. Then his mouth dips open, pupils grow wide and dark, as he falls to whatever fantasies play out in his head. Claude would hear them, and fulfill each one— but for now, he has his own fantasy before him, beautiful and half-naked, a resplendent pin-up dream. 

“C’mere,” he says, patting his knee teasingly. Lorenz huffs but listens, perching primly across the wide spread of Claude’s legs, his ankles crossed neatly between them. An arm wraps around Claude’s shoulders to keep himself steady, and he mouths at Claude’s jaw, tongue tasting the rough bristles there. Lorenz has always liked his beard more than he lets on, Claude thinks. 

It’s not long before Claude is naked, strap buckled into place along with its silicone cock, long and dandelion yellow. He has Lorenz spread out on top of him, the clasp at his groin that holds his bodysuit together undone, fine tears in his nylons where Claude’s calloused fingertips snagged the fabric with his hungry touch. His hole is stretched and slick from Claude’s demanding caress, and he rocks his hips into Claude’s cock, desperate for the smooth pressure against his own. His mouth hangs open as he pants desperately, tightening around four of Claude’s thick fingers.

Claude’s other hand keeps Lorenz from sliding off as he rides him, spreading his ass open as much as he can while his nails dig into the soft, bouncing flesh.

“ _Please_ ,” Lorenz sobs as Claude’s fingers hit the right angle over and over. “Inside me, now, before I—”

Claude’s fingers are gone before he can finish the thought, and he cries out in despair, eyes wide and watery. “Must you tease me?” he asks hoarsely, pawing at Claude’s firm brown chest with clumsy hands.

“If I didn’t, you wouldn’t like me half as much,” Claude tells him, rubbing his plastic cock against his hole.

Lorenz shoves his face into the pelt of hair covering Claude’s torso, muffling his teary, incoherent response.

With Lorenz perfectly out of his mind, Claude finally fucks his hips up, sliding his cock into Lorenz’s aching hole in one smooth stroke. Lorenz cries out, breath hot on Claude’s nipple as he braces himself against his chest. 

Claude keeps pace in a slow, deep grind. The pressure on his clit sends gasping shocks through his spine, heightened by Lorenz all over him, his overbearing _everything_ the suffocation he craves. Lorenz shudders and Claude can’t help how his fingers wander to his hole, teasing the rim, needing to feel him break apart from the inside, too. He can feel Lorenz clench around the toy, shove himself down on it harder than he should. Claude holds him close, guides him into an easier rhythm that has his pretty nails digging into Claude’s skin like thorns— only going faster, deeper, when he feels Lorenz’s cock twitch and jerk against his pelvis.

“Cl— Claude—” He whines and bends backward, thighs trembling as he’s overcome, cum splattering Claude’s stomach, his cock, and the black velvet bodysuit crushed between them.

He holds himself in a perfectly strung bow for a long minute, chest heaving. The bodice of his suit has slipped down on one side, revealing a pink, perfect nipple that Claude wants in his mouth. 

“God, please— need your hands on my dick, baby,” Claude moans, yanking Lorenz closer with a broad handful of his asscheek. 

Lorenz falls into him easily, supple and soft in his afterglow. His eyes, though hazy with lust, still have a sharpness to them as he meets Claude’s frantic gaze. “Just my hands?” he says, flicking his tongue against the manicured tips of his long fingers. Claude clenches, and his clit throbs. 

“Anything,” he pleads. “Whatever’s good for you.”

“I think you’re good for me,” Lorenz says, and there’s a heaviness to it, something that goes beyond the heat of their bodies and sweat on their skin. Claude is about to gather his last two very horny braincells to ask about it, but then Lorenz is kissing down his chest, scraping along the hair sprinkling his stomach until he reaches the toy, and opens his mouth to suck. 

A groan rumbles in Claude’s throat, the lewd display building inside him like a fever. He feels too hot, watching the thick toy disappear past Lorenz’s lips, a ravenous cry of his own vibrating through the silicone, so loud and long Claude can almost feel it ripple over his swollen clit. 

Lorenz wipes the lube and stray drips of his own cum from the hardness with his tongue, even as his hands undo the buckle and slide the harness off. With Claude finally freed, Lorenz finally, _finally_ sinks down onto him, mouth first. 

Claude’s hips jolt, slamming Lorenz back, but he rides it easily, pulling off to brush little kitten licks against his tender clit and into soaking folds. Claude’s slick smears across his chin, his cheeks. When Lorenz looks up under lavender lashes to see Claude staring at him, bottom lip a bitten mess between his teeth, he flicks his tongue out far enough to show him the mess Claude has made on it.

It should be embarrassing, how abruptly his orgasm shudders through him, but the satisfaction on Lorenz’s face as his chin drips with Claude’s cum is enough to put any thought beyond adoration from his head. 

“Let me take you home,” he says suddenly, apropos of nothing. “With me. Stay the night.” 

Or the weekend, he thinks. Maybe forever, if he can convince him.

Lorenz stares at him from his knees, disheveled and debauched and everything Claude has been missing for months. He nods faintly, like he can’t believe what he’s been offered. The yes isn’t as enthusiastic as Claude would like, so to convince him further, he wraps a rough hand around the back of Lorenz’s neck, brushing pleasantly against the soft fuzz of his undercut. He uses it to drag him up, their bodies as close as they can get, so he can taste his own slick on Lorenz’s lips.

Lorenz pushes him away before he can, though, his kiss landing at the corner of his mouth instead. 

“Please don’t,” Lorenz breathes out, words uncertain as they fan over Claude’s lips. “Not yet. I’ve missed the taste of you, and can’t bring myself to give it up just yet.” 

The admission is so quiet and embarrassed that Claude allows him this. 

For now.

**Author's Note:**

> [@bluetworedone](www.twitter.com/bluetworedone)


End file.
